Trivial Things
by Silindro
Summary: Oneshot. Leia is paying the price of Han's jealousy by shouting hurtful words at him in the Imperial Palace garden in the rain. They come to a very muddy conclusion.


a/n: Me and first person POV aren't great friends, so this might be a bit sketchy at times. Forgive me, please. I'm still learning.

Standard disclaimers apply.

**Trivial Things**---

Formal apologies and ceremonial etiquette never were my strong points to begin with, and no matter how often I've reminded her of this, she still forces me into these fancy getups. That's right, Han Solo, royal consort and escort at your service. Sometimes I feel like she drags me around because she knows how much I hate playing dress up for the galactic ambassadors and everyone else to see.

Of course I know that somewhere deep down she's real pleased about having a good looking guy on her arm through all of this, but with my face, who wouldn't be?

Obviously there had to be a line drawn somewhere in the middle of it all. No way would I agree to go into something like that with my eyes closed. It was just an unspoken agreement between the two of us that I didn't hand her off to the first royal pig that was brave enough to take her out of my hands, and she wouldn't be dumb enough to go looking.

Somewhere in the middle of it I lost my temper and made the usual fool out of myself, but to me it made sense at the time. She had broken the rules. She had let some other guy take her for a spin or four around the dance floor without so much as a look over her shoulder. That just wouldn't do it for me.

No one saw me go, I don't think. At least I hoped I had made a clean exit from the building. My blaster pistol wasn't with me, so I had to have been overlooked. Maybe if I was lucky she wouldn't realize that I wasn't there until after it was all over and the delegates got to go home.

The second I walked out of the building I wasn't sure where I could go to hide. Leia had the Force and the Force was a great tracking device. No point in going to the Lower City. She'd just try to come after me, and even Leia in her great Jedi wisdom was subject to apparent dangers down there. A pretty woman in a lower-cut white dress just stood out far too much in the dirtier places of the world.

Making a spur of the moment decision I decided to head to one of the gardens on the upper levels. It was nice and quiet in there, at least that's what she had told me when it was apparent that the apartment was much too loud a place to think. She went there to sort things out, work on her problems. Not the best choice, I suppose, for trying to avoid her, but she will no where I am anyway. No point in trying to hide.

Not surprisingly, she found me no more than fifteen standard minutes later sitting on one of the stone benches just off the non-proverbial beaten path. It was a quiet little alcove meant for thinking, not for shouting out your differences. Leia knew this and respected the peace of the place. And my ears.

"You ran out," she said simply.

"How do you figure?" I asked a little more harshly than I intended.

"Han, what's this all about?"

Laughing cynically and in utter disbelief, I wondered if she could read my mind or feel the pain and incredulity that I was suffering through. Probably not. She was still looking clueless in her up done hair and fancy white dress. Beautiful, but clueless.

"There ain't nothing this side of Dathomir that can get me back into one of those galas with the stunt that you just pulled," I answered.

"What stunt? Quit playing games, Han, I'm serious." It's easy to tell when she's getting real frustrated because she leans just that inch or two forward. That Alderaanian accent starts poking through too.

"I ain't playing games anymore, Highness." She hates it when I start calling her names. "Dancing with someone else one time I can pass off as a fluke, but not after the third or fourth run around the floor."

Yeah, something's clicking inside of her brain now.

"Han, I-"

"Don't give me any bullshit excuses. Whatever it is, make it good. I only wanna hear it once."

She never was one that liked to be ordered around. Even in a good fight she likes to call the shots. And if she's not calling them then she's scrapping with her own set of rules. Never was sure what those rules were, but there's no doubt in my mind that she's going to be using them this time around.

Of course she isn't in the mood to fight back, no, not this time. She's going to play the part of the emotional woman. Yep, she's got that teary look in her eyes. And her bottom lip always pouts out right before the tears start to fall. Maybe it's worked in the past, but it won't work this time. Nuh uhn. Weepy woman tricks won't work on Han Solo this time. I don't care how gorgeous she is.

"This whole night has just been so stressful," she sobs. "I thought I'd be good for this job but it just isn't the case Han. I don't know how much longer I can play the galaxy's lead diplomat."

Three.

Two.

One.

Yeah, there it goes. The ice around my heart has begun to melt. I knew that this whole Chief of State thing was going to get to her, but I wasn't sure when the breakdown was gonna come. Looks like this would-have-been argument is the perfect outlet for her work-related problems. All because of one dance.

Okay, four, but who's counting?

And down on the ground she goes. She's going to not only ruin her dress but make me take it to be cleaned later. And because this woman runs every aspect of my life without really lifting a finger, I'm gonna do it. Why? Because love does that to you. And if it isn't love then it's something damned close.

"What are you really angry about?" she asks in her softest voice. Those tears haven't stopped falling yet. Or really gotten started, probably.

"I'm not angry," I find myself saying. And I really mean it now. The whole dancing thing seems so trivial now that I think about it. I mean, there's no reason that the Chief of State of the New Republic should be sitting on the dirty ground crying because I can't keep my temper in check. Leia shouldn't be crying because of me.

And if things weren't bad enough, the sprinklers make them worse. From overhead the watering system comes on and sprays a heavy rain-simulated shower down upon the plants and myself and my upset partner. She doesn't seem to care that it's raining, or that the ground around her is turning into mud. She's too wrapped up in her grief.

"Sweetheart, you're going to ruin-"

"_Why_?" she shouts at me. "_Why_ does it all come down to me? _Why_ does the weight of the galaxy have to rest on _my_ shoulders? I never asked for this, I never wanted _any_ of it. All I ever _wanted_ was a home and parents and maybe someone who could just love me for me."

"You know I-"

"Don't say things you don't mean," she hisses.

"How do you know I-"

"Han, you don't know_ anything_."

"Beg your pardon, Princess, but I know a whole hell of a lot more than you think I do," I bite out through clenched teeth.

She's digging her immaculately manicured nails into the mud now, and the jewelry that once shone with brilliance, dazzling in the light of the ballroom, is now caked with dirt and grime that will take hours to clean. She doesn't seem to care, she's too angry to care. She's too angry to see that I'm not really angry. Or that she's not really angry either.

"Save it, Pirate," she spits. "If you knew half as much as you claim you do then you wouldn't be sitting on that bench staring at a mentally unstable woman crying like a four year old in the mud. You'd be smart enough to know that you should have been walking out that door two minutes before you started walking in."

Not really sure if she's talking about the door to the garden or the door to her life. But I've gotta hand it to her that she knows how to insult. Must be something that she picked up from me.

"Call me stupid, then," I shout back, "because I'm not going _anywhere_. And that's a promise."

Her mouth that was poised open and ready for another scathing personal attack shut. Instead of looking at me, she looks down at the ground. Maybe she isn't looking at anything. Maybe she's really seeing everthing.

"Leia?"

The name jerks her out of it, thankfully. She's still looking at the ground, though.

"I've ruined my dress."

"Yeah."

She looks up and really sees me for the first time. _Really_ sees me, not just looking at me. And she's pale in the face, washed out even. The rain has smeared her perfect makeup and dampened her hair into the darkest shade of chestnut that I've ever seen. And there she is, still the beautiful woman that I fell in love with all those years ago.

"I didn't mean those things," she sniffs.

"I know you didn't."

I'm on my feet as soon as the words leave my mouth, holding out my hand to help her off of the ground. Saying her dress is ruined is the understatement of the century. Nothing will ever get this thing clean. Not even bribery and the galaxy's best laundry service. Oh well, I'll just buy her another one. It was my fault she came here in the first place.

"Let's go home and get you cleaned up," I'm telling her as we start towards the door.

"It's awful cold, Han," she comments.

I look down and see that's she's shivering cold, her teeth chattering involuntarily as she walks along beside me. Of course I'm wet too, but I was sitting under a tree that didn't seem to leak as much as the open pathway.

"I have half a mind to give you my jacket," I say, reaching up to unbutton the garment, "but I think I like the sight of you soaking wet in that pretty white dress far too much."

Her eyes widen and she looks down at herself, realizing how revealing her current situation really is. She crosses her arms in front of her chest and looks away, probably too embarrassed to look at me. I'm not too ashamed to look at her, though. But I'm still kind of feeling bad about the whole incident. She can't be feeling too great about it either. At least we got it off of our chests.

Now normal life can resume. And it will once we get cleaned and dried off.

And as for the party downstairs? Whoever her dance partner was can find himself some other pretty lady to swing around the floor. I've got a woman that likes to dance to _my_ rhythm of life.

* * *

a/n: Y'know, of all the verbal fight scenes I've ever written, this has got to be my favorite. I was on autopilot for this one. Hope you enjoyed it. Message me or email me sometime, I don't have anyone to talk Star Wars with online…

It's a fanfiction sin to read without reviewing.


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